


The Ride

by Daegaer



Series: Burning Rome [9]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: 1st Century CE, AU, Ancient Religions, Ancient Rome, Gen, Historical, Prophetic Visions, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sesithacus sees his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Picture Inspiration Challenge in the summer 2014 Weiss vs Saiyuki Battle.

"I want you to do something for me," Caratacus said, feeding his brazier with little twigs.

Sesithacus immediately stilled his mind as best he could and listened to the Briton's thoughts. He sat back in annoyance to find Caratacus carefully reciting in his mind some damned interminable piece of poetry in his own language.

"That _is_ a poem, isn't it?" he said, as rudely as he could.

"It is indeed," Caratacus said, stirring the clay pot he had set upon his fire. "It takes a week to sing it from start to finish, so don't think to catch me at the end of it any time soon. You have but to ask me, Sesithacus, and I'll tell you what I want – I want you to drink this, when it's ready."

Sesithacus looked at the pot in distaste; the smell was atrocious. "What spell is it?" he asked.

"It's to help you see as I do – and before you mock my eyesight, you know well enough what it is I mean. Will you drink it?"

Sesithacus sighed. Who else had Caratacus to ask? Februus was mad, Sanagi but a child – "Is it poisonous?"

"Not very."

Sesithacus groaned and sat beside the brazier, head in hands. At length Caratacus nudged him and handed him a bowl, into which the liquid from the clay pot had been strained. It was a brownish green and smelled like the privy on a hot day. Sesithacus tossed it back and forced himself to keep it down. After a little his stomach roiled, and his head grew light and dizzy. He was dimly aware of Caratacus propping him against the wall and pulling back his eyelids to peer shortsightedly into his eyes, but his attention was more taken with the gleam of the sunlight on the nine warhorses' manes, and the head-splitting sound of swords being sharpened right beside him. It was difficult to turn to see the warriors, for his limbs didn't want to obey him, and harder to look them in the face, they were so bright. Their armour was old-fashioned, yet appeared new-made that morning, their long swords deadly sharp and gleaming like silver. Each of them had a death-dealing spear, and a close-fitted helmet on their head, their long fair hair rippling out from beneath it like sunlight. Their voices were calm and grave, and they spoke like people from his grandfather's grandfather's time.

The clouds beneath their feet parted, and far below he saw a city, shining along the banks of a river, and knew it was Rome. The warriors leapt onto their horses as lightly as if they were maidens dancing in the spring, their grave and lovely faces now transformed with smiles as they drew their weapons. One raised her spear high, as if ready to give the order to charge, and another turned to look at him, and pointed to a warhorse standing ready, waiting. Her smile was the most beautiful and terrible thing he had ever seen.

Sesithacus rolled over, retching, what was left of Caratacus' potion coming up in a sour stream. His stomach kept heaving until there was nothing left, until he hadn't even any bile left to bring up.

"What did you see?" Caratacus said. "What?"

"Nothing good," Sesithacus gasped. "You're going to get your revenge, this city is doomed."

" _Yes_ ," Caratacus hissed, "I _knew_ it. I am glad your gods agree."

"Oh, they agree," Sesithacus said, and lay back against the wall, trying not to cry. He had run so far, but no man could outrun his wyrd. The valkyries had chosen him to accompany them. He was going to die.


End file.
